


Stress Relief

by CreateInsanity



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale, Self-Esteem Issues, Spans through seasons 3-5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreateInsanity/pseuds/CreateInsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is Rick’s dirty little secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> For an explanation of why this and my other works were taken down and why the others are still not up - Please read the End Notes!  
> I tried my best at editing this, please excuse any remaining errors.

Rick never talked about it.

And Daryl supposed he knew enough about following Rick’s lead to keep quiet as well.

He didn't really understand it though.

It wasn't like he was a virgin, growing up the way he did he ended up following in his fellow Dixon’s footsteps and blowing that with some random hooker of Merle’s when he was 14. That always tended to be the extent of it though. One night stands, a quick romp in the back of a pickup. Once his Dad died there had been some drunken experimentation with other men from city bars and one asshole who made Daryl feel like he was a worthless piece of shit for two years, but that was about it.

Daryl had never been with any men before that, knew how risky it was. He’d been 10 the first time he saw how the men of Georgia beat up fags that don’t quite hide their sexuality well enough, remembers his Dad’s bleeding knuckles as he’d stepped back into the truck, the way the ‘fag’ (his Dad had spit the insult at him like a threat) wasn't really moving anymore. 

He’d figured that he only had to worry about Merle finding out and beating him to a pulp with his Dad gone.

His Dad, God, Daddy would've killed him. Killed him like that other faggot in that ally. At least then that particular threat would've finally been justified.

Hell his Daddy had always looked about ready to kill him for smaller things than that. Sometimes he didn't think his Dad had ever wanted another son, didn't help that Daryl was only really useful as someone to beat on after everyone else bailed.

Not that he never beat on him _before_ everyone else bailed.

He likes to think that Merle wouldn't have killed him though.

Thrashed him? Beaten him bloody? Hell yes, but you couldn't really carry on using someone if they died and Daryl, in the past few years, had realized that was mainly the reason Merle kept him around.

Or had kept him around anyway.

But Merle was gone, and he guessed that was some of the reason it didn't seem like a big deal anymore.

And it wasn't a big deal, not really. But it was different.

It never was a onetime thing, Rick kept coming back, wanting more. And hell, Daryl wanted it too, wanted the relief and craved the connection. No one had ever shown any type of continuous interest before. Not positively, not nicely. 

And it wasn't like Rick was rough, but he wasn't affectionate either and if a small part of Daryl was glad about that, because he wouldn't have known what to do with it anyway, no one had to know. Rick was just there, and Daryl was just there too, and it was convenient and easy. Rick always left looking a little less stressed anyway, a little less haggard, and Daryl supposed that in some ways this - whatever the hell it is - could count as him contributing to the group.

Daryl could be stress relief, he’d been that before.

He prefers being fucked to being punched anyway.

But Rick never talked about it, not even to Daryl, and when they were around other people it was as if none of it ever happened, and Daryl didn't think to be offended or confused because when you grew up a faggot in rural Georgia that’s the way it has to be.

Hershel had been one of those strict Christian types anyway, and Daryl hadn't wanted to disappoint him.

And with Hershel gone, and the Prison gone and Beth gone Daryl supposes it’s a small comfort that those two never found out. They were always so nice to him, he was glad he didn't screw that up.

After the prison, after Terminus, after Grady, they’re on the road for a long time. Shit happens.

“You’re my brother.” Rick says, and it sounds like condemnation.

Things are different after that, they’re closer knit. No more letting in strangers, no more trusting those that don’t earn it. Just family and survival and taking things day by day, hoping that it’s not your last. Rick’s different as well. He’s angrier, tired (stressed, for lack of a better word, and Hell, aren't they all) but whatever the hell it was that they had, that’s just stopped.

Daryl can see Rick needs it, can see it clear as day, but he’s not taking it.

And it makes him feel absolutely useless.

There’s no food, there’s no water and Rick doesn't want him for the only damn thing he’s good for. He thinks, in the quiet of a barn, a small triumph that feels as hollow as Rick’s damn words, that maybe it’s because they’re on the road. Not the best place for a fuck, not safe. He hopes, very briefly, very quietly, that when they find somewhere, he can help again. He can _help._

His family helps him hold the barn doors shut later that night, when the rain is pounding just as hard as the walkers and the wind mimics their groans with a resounding and encompassing feel of finality and all Daryl can think is _‘This isn't a bad way to go.’_

After all, he’s surrounded by family, Rick’s hand overlapping his own on the barn doors, and it feels like the end.

Alexandria is the calm after the storm, in both the literal and figurative sense.

Daryl doesn't like it, but everyone else does, so he stays quiet, keeps his head down and watches his family flourish.

He watches Carol walk around, dressed in cardigans and un-ripped pants and talk to the other ‘housewives’. See’s Maggie fall in line with Deanna’s council. Glances across the porch at Glenn and Noah, sat talking with Deanne’s husband. Keeps an eye on Carl and Judith as they talk to the old couple down the street.

He catches glimpses of Rick every once in a while, talking to a pretty blonde with an honest to God _smile_ on his face.

Daryl’s not jealous, he thought he might be, thought he _should_ be, but he isn't. Rick’s never looked at him like that and he never would, and Daryl’s so damn happy that someone made Rick smile again that he can’t find it in himself to be bitter.

He hopes Jessie realizes that she’s the luckiest girl in the whole damn world.

Thing’s turn to shit again soon enough. And although it wasn't exactly expected it wasn't surprising either, it’s hard to relax in a world so fundamentally stressful.

Daryl had been on the road with Aaron quite a while, and he felt like he hasn't spoken to his family in a lifetime, wondered if he’d get back and find out there are some he’ll never speak to again. 

They’re nearly caught, trap springs and it’s full of walkers and they run right into that damn car because it’s the only option available, read that damn note and can’t even think to be grateful because it’s a bit too late for a warning when you've already fallen into the trap. There’s a brief moment where Daryl thinks he’ll never speak to _any_ of his family again, so he sits back, breathes in smoke, and says he’ll go, think’s that it’s okay because Aaron’s a damn good guy, damn good _friend_ , and he has a man back home who loves him.

In the end, Daryl’s stood with Aaron and a man named Morgan, looking right through the map to ‘Rick Grimes’ and if that isn't the story of Daryl’s damn life he doesn't know what is.

“I know him”. He says. 

_Huh, you wish._

They arrive back just in time to see Rick put a bullet through Jessie’s husband.

The Alexandrians understand after that, not completely, but they’re on their way. They've lost things, discovered things, changed things about themselves and their community. It’s good, because God knows you need to be strong in this world, strong in character when strong walls aren't enough. Strong in spirit, because plans will fall through no matter their strength.

Rick seems calmer, more centered. Jessie’s good for him and he’s good for Jessie and Daryl’s happy for them because he has no right to be hurt for being stupid enough to hope.

Daryl still sleeps in the original house they were given. Rick, Carl and Judith moved in with Jessie and everyone else branched off to be closer to the community but Daryl just can’t find it in him to _ask_. He doesn't really feel like he’s a part of it anymore. No need to hunt, no need to watch, no need to get fucked. No need for Daryl Dixon.

It’s a week later that Rick climbs in through Daryl’s bedroom window, damn near scaring the life out of him before he realizes who it is.

“Rick, what the…?” Daryl trails off, distracted as Rick climbs on top of him and bites his way down his neck. Not kisses, kisses are too gentle for this and Daryl reminds himself that while this isn't love, it’s the closest he’s ever gonna get.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Almost comforting but not quite, and Daryl knows a command when he hears one. He sits up, running his hands under Rick’s shirt and pulling it over his head, aborting Rick’s movement to do the same to him, catching his hands and moving them down to his pants instead, letting Rick yank them off him and push him back into the covers. 

Daryl doesn't think anything of it when Rick slips two lubed fingers inside of him, but the third stings slightly and the look Rick gives him when Daryl gasps reminds him how much Rick hates noise. 

It’s only when it’s Rick, pushed against him, wet and ready and eager, that Daryl remembers exactly why this hasn't happened in a while.

“Wait, wait.” Daryl say, breathless and hoarse and Rick looks anywhere but his face. “What about Jes-”

“ _Shut up._ ” It’s hissed and punctuated by the long slide of Rick’s cock and Daryl rolls his head to the side, letting his hair fall over one side of his face as the pillow hides the other. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't look at his spread legs, or Rick’s closed eyes, or the way his cock bounces hard and flushed against his stomach.

He’s seen it all before. And he’s so damn glad Rick’s here, that he can help, that he doesn't even mind the sick feeling of guilt that’s gonna curl its way through his stomach every time he looks at Jessie.

Daryl wishes he could be happy, could be glad that Rick wants him again, needs him again, but his heart hurts and his head hurts too and even though Rick was his family first, it still feels like he’s wreaking everything.

Rick doesn't stay, he never did even when he no longer had anyone to get back too and Daryl doesn't mind because he never did learn what to do with affection, never had the practice.

And if Daryl feels like utter shit when he sees the happy family next, it’s okay, because no one really makes the effort to talk to him anyway and Daryl couldn't look them in the eyes even if they tried.

He doesn't see his family much anymore, and it makes him sad, but he doesn't want them to stop being happy so he stays away.

He’s still there when Rick need him though. Curves himself to the edge of Rick Grimes and clings. It’s where he belongs, out of sight and out of mind, but still present – still available. He’ll skim as close to the edge as he can, and hope he doesn't fall of the map.

Aaron and Eric sometimes invite him round to theirs after a successful run picking up strays. Their relationship is heart-warming, their love reflected in their eyes and Daryl often wonders if anyone’s ever looked at him like that, but always draws a blank. At least if some people aren't supposed to be loved he can be glad whoever’s in charge chose him. He would've been a lost cause anyway.

It’s after one of these meals, when Aaron and Eric are drinking to be jovial and Daryl’s drinking to drown sorrows he doesn't think he has any right to have, that Aaron leans across the table and catches Daryl’s eyes through the curtain of his hair. It’s something Rick used to do.

“Is something going on between you and Rick?”

“No.” Daryl denies it because Rick would. Because it’s a secret and boy is Rick gonna be pissed if Daryl fucks everything up.

“Daryl, we live four doors down, Jessie’s is on the other side of town, we see him coming and going.” Eric’s looking at him like he’s a damn charity case, and Daryl knows he means well but it pisses him off.

“Ever cross your mind that he might just wanna chat?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, looking as if he’s honest to God considering it.

“Then why doesn't he use the front door?”

Daryl opens his mouth to say something, but the words catch in his throat, tearing themselves free into nothing more than a breath of air that stops and starts again too quickly. He feels panicky, and he’s trying to breathe like a normal damn person because he can’t fuck up the only thing he has left, he fucking can’t.

“Daryl, hey, it’s alright.” Aaron doesn't try to touch him and Daryl’s ridiculously grateful for that, but he does move to be further into his line of sight, leaning so far over the damn table he might as well be lying on it. “Breathe, everything’s okay. This is us, Daryl. Eric and I, we’re not gonna judge, you know that, we just wanna know that you’re okay.”

“He wouldn't hurt me!” Daryl says, and doesn't notice until he’s said it that it’s all the affirmation they need.

“That’s good! We were just confused, in all honesty. We thought he was with Jessie.” Eric says, smiling a smile that tries to be comforting and fails miserably.

“He… he gets stressed.” Daryl swallows, chews on the corner of his lip. Not altogether knowing why he’s bothering to explain, why he doesn't just shut his damn mouth and lock himself in his house and wait for Rick to want him again. “She’s a girl, she’s been hurt before, he don’t wanna hurt her.” 

“He hurts you instead?”

“No, I already said he wouldn't, that ain't Rick.” Daryl sighs, brings his hands up to his eyes and rubs at them, feeling like he hasn't slept in days.

“So what, you’re his stress relief?”

He shrugs, letting his hand fall to the table, not really understanding what the big deal is. But God, it hurts, to have it pointed out. Named and shamed.

“You deserve more than that Daryl, that isn't love, its usage.”

Daryl brings his hand up to his mouth, chewing on the calluses around his thumb. Aaron’s looking at him like he wants an answer and Daryl knows he’s gonna disappoint him because he’s never been any good at giving people what they really want.

“Least ‘m being useful.”

It isn't right, little of what he does ever is.

**Author's Note:**

> This, as well as my other works, were taken down through no fault of anyone else. I was being an idiot. You have all been so lovely and I was so upset at myself for deleting the things you had blatantly showed me appreciation for. So many of you wrote me lovely comments, and gave kudos and bookmarked my stories with lovely things and I appreciate them so much, and because of me, they're gone.
> 
> In all honesty, I just got a bit overwhelmed. I was timid in the original posting of these fics and after reading them through I got embarrassed and took them down, selfishly thinking that no one else would notice. 
> 
> Everyone should offer much love to snazzelle who has been absolutely lovely and had a chat to me over on tumblr, assuring me that no one would hate me for posting them back up after I so selfishly removed them for stupid reasons. As well as one other lovely reader, (grimesndixon on tumblr) who asked about my fics after I had taken them down and helped me realize I was being an idiot.
> 
> The others will be posted again once they are edited and they will not be taken down. I've learned my lesson and I hope all of you will forgive me.


End file.
